


The Nomination

by JB_Spring



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-01
Updated: 2014-12-01
Packaged: 2018-02-27 15:35:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2698118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JB_Spring/pseuds/JB_Spring
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Courfeyrac has been nominated by the will of the people. Enjolras is less than pleased.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Nomination

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first post! After years of reading, I finally wrote something. I hope you enjoy. Please inform me of any mistakes I may have missed.

“Enjolras, I swear I didn’t ask for this… I didn’t even campaign! Don’t look at me like that- I can feel your glare. ‘Ferre, back me up a little? Please?”

“Courf, you know that nothing I say will stop the tirade. Nonetheless, I do understand your pain and I hope you receive mercy.”

“Thanks ‘Ferre, you’re a god among men.”

“Hey, I’m not the one who got himself nominated for Homecoming King.”

The Musain, normally buzzing with the promise of progress, is instead buzzing with the sting of betrayal. With his fists on the table in front of him, looming over Courfeyrac, Enjolras’ expression indicates that Courf may as well have announced his undying love for Mitt Romney.

“Courfeyrac,” Enjolras starts, clearly trying for patience, yet ending with strained rage, “this kind of shameless popularity contest is exactly representative of the social stratification we are trying to fight!”

In a last ditch attempt to save himself, Courf invokes the name of the people.

“I recognize that, I do, but what am I supposed to say? I was fairly nominated by my peers! It’s the will of the student-body, Enjolras! What can I do, decline the nomi- don’t you give me that face, Enjolras; I am not going to decline the nomination.”

Enjolras’ face turns from determinedly hopeful to flushed with indignance in a matter of milliseconds.

“This is not a democracy, Courf! This is pure social pandering and sycophancy masquerading under a thin guise of crepe streamers and plastic crowns and yearbook accolades, justifying themselves through some rigged system of voting! It’s no substitute at all for actual civic engagement!”

Courfeyrac drops his face into his hands, glancing at Combeferre through his fingers, silently begging for some kind of intervention.

“And worse still, it’s infecting student government! Do you know how little the average high school student actually cares about major issues relevant to their education, like textbook selection and allocation of school funds to fairly and equally support a wide variety of extracurriculars?? All anyone cares about is whether the football team won last week – you could practically campaign for the title and win on a platform consisting only of a theme for next year’s prom and having nice hair!”

“Gee Enjolras, you think my hair is nice? I didn’t think you’d noticed,” Courf mutters into his hands.

It’s during this last bit of lecture that Grantaire waltzes into the room, carrying a borrowed novel he quickly returns to Combeferre. “Oh, is that how you were elected, Enjolras? You should probably learn that the first rule of politics is never to reveal your secrets. It’s sort of like card tricks.”

Enjolras visibly restrains himself from throwing a folder of notes at R’s head. Even if 90% of his restraint stems only from the fact that he spent all of last night color coding and collating them.

R plops into a seat next to Combeferre and looks around at the three boys in varying states of distress. Well, if you can call Combeferre’s quiet resignation distress. R pulls out his pack of cigarettes before he continues. “I’m sorry, what are we talking about?”

Courf turns his pained expression on Grantaire. He can’t figure out whether he means to thank him for the welcome distraction or damn him for riling Enjolras further. 

In the ensuing silence, Combeferre stares pointedly at Grantaire’s pack until he puts it back into his coat pocket. Combeferre removes his glasses to rub at his eyes before replacing them.

R takes a sip of his root beer (It’s the closest thing they can get here, unless they sneak it in) before Combeferre breaks the tension.

“Enjolras, you probably don’t want to hear this right now, but you were also nominated for Homecoming King.”

R spits his drink over the table. He is laughing so hard, Courf can see he is having a hard time breathing. In fact, Courf has never seen Grantaire with this level of devious glint in his eyes before. He raises his eyebrows at him in question.

R looks up at Enjolras with barely contained glee. 

“My hand slipped?”

It’s only by the grace of god- and Combeferre- that R makes it out of that meeting alive. However, Enjolras does need to color-code his files all over again

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr: Reckless-and-Insoucient


End file.
